


His Saving Grace

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Castiel, Demon Dean, Fluff, Jealous Dean, M/M, Profound Bond, Season 10 canon divergent, Smut, Wing Kink, link in end notes, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: "It is not too late, Dean. You are in there somewhere. I dragged your soul out of hell once before, I can do it again.”Dean laughed in genuine amusement. “You can’t fix me, Cas.”“Watch me.”When Dean becomes a demon, a fully powered Castiel makes it his mission to bring Dean back from the brink and prove that love is the best cure of all. A season 10 canon divergent fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone:) Here is my second contribution to this year's DRB. I hope you all enjoy it. The lovely art is by the awesome Sastmk, you can find his work [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10600716). Check it out, he is amazing!
> 
> Thank you to my dearest teapot Bekki, for the beta work. Thanks to Jenny for the support. I love my Mishkateers <3  
> [](http://imgur.com/qhwC7PZ)
> 
> You can find me here on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/DesiraeSterite) and [Tumblr](https://desiraelovesdestiel.tumblr.com)

There was a thunder-like roaring in Castiel’s ears when he found out that Dean had become a demon. For a moment he had been light-headed, black seeping in on the edge of his vision. _How had this happened?_ But of course he knew. The damn Mark of Cain.

If Castiel were prone to temper tantrums, he’d have demolished the cheap furniture in his dingy motel room. Smashed the microwave, broken the already wobbly chair with his bare hands. He shook with the effort to hold back, his battered wings quivering so hard with rage that,had they been corporeal at that moment, Castiel did not doubt that more of his charred feathers would have fallen out.

Castiel took a deep breath, feeling trapped in his vessel. Though vessel didn’t seem accurate. The body was his, despite his true form. For all intents and purposes, this replica of Jimmy Novak belonged to him. But, oh, what he would give to be able to fly away for just a little bit. To express his anger and sadness with the frustrating human he had come to love with plunging dives and chaotic spins. He wanted to fly to a mountain top and scream his fury at the top of his lungs. He wanted to create a storm with his bitter fueled energy, just to have an outlet for a _little_ while.

Of course, he couldn’t do any of those things. Not without his grace. Not with this watered down, borrowed source inside of him. So instead, he wielded his angel blade, holding it’s pointed edge to the pulse point of Metatron’s vessel. He jerked his hand up and nicked the skin just above the jugular.

Metatron hissed and twisted to no avail, cuffed to the chair in the middle of the room at a Motel 6. As long as Hannah’s sound proofing held, Castiel could torture the disgusting excuse for an angel indefinitely and no one would be the wiser.

They were supposed to be delivering Metatron to heaven, to await his fate, be it death or incarceration. Hannah had been eager to get him there because it had taken them so long to track him down. But that plan, much to her displeasure, had been put on hold. Castiel couldn’t be bothered to care. He didn’t feel the need to explain why this couldn’t wait until they were settled back in heaven, going through the red tape, all i’s dotted and t’s crossed. It needed to be now because who knew how long he had. How long until Dean did something that Castiel couldn’t save him from? Something Dean would regret once Castiel restored his humanity?

“Now,” Castiel said, slicing with his blade again. “You are going to tell me where you hid my grace…” another cut followed by another scream, “or this is going to become very painful.”

* * *

  


Dean rolled his eyes as his cell chirped out another message notification. No doubt it was Sammy again for the billionth time. You’d think the kid could take a hint. Dean walked down the Vegas strip, enjoying the cacophony of chaos around him. He’d managed to slip out without Crowley for once. Dude was getting clingy. The King of Hell seemed to think he was Dean’s new best friend. In reality, Dean couldn’t give a fuck about the glorified demon, save what he could get from him… the menage a trois, though. That had been the last straw. Dean had seen things that were even too much for his steel stomach, and no chick was hot enough for Dean to touch Crowley’s genitals. Ever.

It was a hot night, but dry; the breeze that filtered in and out helped, as well as the view. Aside from the wide-eyed tourists, there were some very attractive woman in all manner of skimpy dress weaving their way through the strip. Some decent looking men, as well. It had been a very long time since Dean had felt the stubble of another man against his skin or between his thighs. Since before John Winchester had passed, that was for sure. Dean chuckled to think what his old man would have said if he knew about the often lascivious thoughts Dean had about his angel best friend. Well, former, now he supposed. No self-respecting angel of the Lord was going to spend his free time with a demon. Then again, Cas never did the things that were expected anyway. Dean shook his head. Why the fuck was he even thinking about Castiel now anyway? Man, he need something to screw or something to kill. Maybe both.

Dean sighed as once again his phone sounded. _Huh. This is surprising._ Not a text. Not Sammy. Dean swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean’s voice held a leer in it.

“Hello, Dean.”

When Dean felt a curl of happiness in his gut at the sound of the angel’s sandpaper voice, He squashed it down in disgust.

“What can I do for you, Cas? Kill any of your brothers and sisters, lately?” Dean taunted but Castiel didn’t rise to the bait.

“Where are you?” was all he said and though the angel couldn’t see him, Dean poked his lip out in a pout.

“Aw, don’t want to chit-chat, huh? Straight to business. You be sure to tell Sammy hello for me.”

“Sam is not here. Where are you?” Castiel repeated, voice steady and cold.

“You’re no fun. I’m in Vegas, baby. But by the time you tell Sa- _Son of a bitch_ !” Dean jumped back, nearly falling into the fountain behind him. There was Cas-only different. He still had the dark _-just been fucked_ -hair. The deep cobalt eyes and perma-stubble. His perpetually chapped pink lips were no different than the last time Dean had seen them. All of that was the same. What wasn’t the same was the bright iridescent light and the fucking huge black wings.

Dean felt his eyes widen as he took in the shimmering, winged creature that was _-is_ -was, his best friend.

“Holy fuck, Cas!” was all that came out of his mouth and Castiel had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Yes, you can see my wings. I can see yours as well. Shall we move on?”

“Mine? What are you talking about?” Dean looked over his shoulder, turning his body around, not unlike a dog chasing his tail.

Castiel merely huffed in aggravation before laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean felt a tickle in the area where Cas’ handprint used to be and when he blinked, he found himself in a hotel room. This room was much grander than what he was used to in his hunting days and more in keeping with the places Crowley had been exposing him to. _I hope he’s not here_ Dean thought to himself as he took in the view from the wall of tinted windows. Dean felt like he needed a minute to catch up as he stared at the bright lights of the city. His reflection definitely did not show any feathers sprouting out of his shoulders.

Dean turned around to face Castiel. The angel stood, silent, face blank, brow raised as though waiting for the questions to start. The only clue that he wasn’t as calm as he looked was the quivering of Cas’ wings. Dean discovered with every ripple of movement that what he first perceived as black was actually an oil slick of colors ranging from onyx, indigo and hunter green. With every feather that caught the light, the color would shimmer then steady again. It was extremely distracting. It suddenly hit him.

“You have your mojo back.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Metatron was… convinced to provide me with the location of my missing grace.”

“Is he alive?” Dean asked, tone dark, remembering that moment when the scribe of God plunged a blade into his chest.

Castiel inclined his head. “For now.”

Dean clenched his fist. He had to fight back the urge to lash out, though he didn’t know why he was bothering to curb himself. Just because Cas was here? He decided to change the subject. Walking forward he slowly circled his friend. He reached out to touch one crooked feather but before he could, Castiel caught him hard by the wrist.

“No. You have not earned that right yet. Old you, yes. But not this you.”

Castiel’s gravel laced voice brooked no argument and again Dean found himself backing off. He was irritated that he was finding it hard to lash out at the angel. Instead, he brought up what Cas had said on the street.

“You said you could see my wings?” Dean asked as he continued to drink in Cas own feathered appendages.

“Yes. Your tail and your horns as well,” Castiel said smugly.

“Why can’t I see them?” he challenged and Cas’ smug expression only grew.

“Because deep down you do not want to see them.”

“Is that some kind of Dr. Phil shit? Cause if I have a fucking tail, you better believe I wanna see it.”

Castiel’s put upon sighs were really starting to piss him off.  “Dean. No matter how corrupt the mark is making you, the pureness of your soul is still there. Deep down you do not wish to harm the innocent.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed as his eyes flashed black. “Oh angel, I was corrupt long before the mark. Now I’m free and let me tell you, it is so much more fun when you just don’t care about anyone else anymore.”

Castiel stepped into Dean’s space until they were toe to toe. Dean felt a moment's trepidation because powered up Cas was a force to be reckoned with. He squashed it down under a heavy dose of bravado and smirked in the angel’s face.

“If you truly did not care, we would be fighting right now,” Castiel said flatly.

“If you want to get sweaty, Cas, I can think of better ways,” Dean winked at him. “Ways that old me always thought about but was too chicken shit to ask for.”

Castiel tilted his head, a bored expression on his face.

“Not interested?” Dean put his hands up in mock defense. “Fine, but if you didn’t bring me to this little nest for something physical,” Dean smirked at the angel, “then let me go so I can get physical somewhere else.”

Dean started for the door, but a wave of Cas’ hand had him pinned to the wall next to some generic painting of a lighthouse. Dean felt the tingling in his shoulder again as Castiel's grace held him against his will.

Dean raised a brow and made sure he sounded amused when he spoke. “Into bondage, Cas? I wouldn't have pegged you for the BDSM type.”

“I have a proposition for you.” Castiel's hand clamped over his mouth before he could make another sexual innuendo. Dean had to fight the instinct to childishly lick his palm. “Can you keep silent and listen to what I have to say or are we going to keep playing games?” Castiel's voice was calm, but again Dean felt his eyes drifting towards those quivering wings. His fingers were just itching to touch. He pushed the feeling down and nodded at the angel.

Castiel removed his hand. “You’re craving a fight, I can see that. You want to keep the mark fed, fine. But we’re going to do it my way. No more galavanting with Crowley.”

“Jealous?” Dean couldn't help himself and felt satisfaction when Castiel’s eyes flashed, though he just went on as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “No more random bar fights. No more bystanders getting hurt. You will come with me.”

“And where is it that we’re going to be going?” Dean’s tone was disrespectful but with Castiel filled with angel juice, Dean’s attitude was about the only weapon he had. He could put up a fight, sure. They could break some furniture having a brawl, but Dean knew there was no beating Cas when he was at full strength. It would just be a waste of time.

“There are still some of Metatron’s disciples to be rounded up-”

“Heaven’s grunt work again, Cas? Really? Aren’t you tired of being their little bitch?”

Castiel’s hand shot out so quickly that Dean didn’t even see it. He just felt it pressing against his windpipe.

“I am no one’s bitch, Dean, though I can’t say the same for you. Crowley seemed to take joy in sending me some rather provocative…,” his head cocked on the word, “pictures.”

Dean didn't like how Castiel's words made him feel as though he had somehow betrayed him. He focused his eyes on one of Castiel's oil-slick feathers and waited for him to continue.

“I also thought we could do some hunting. I have Sam feeding me cases. I know you wouldn’t want to work with him. You want to get your hands dirty?” Castiel arched a brow at him, “This is how you are going to do it.” He let go of Dean's throat abruptly and Dean sucked in a breath.

Dean stared into Cas’ eyes, the stormy depths, conveying nothing but annoyed impatience. He couldn't help but wonder why his former friend was even bothering.

“Say I go along with this. What’s in it for you?”

“What's in it for me?” Castiel's voice took on a hard edge. “How about not watching you destroy yourself? How about not having to tell your brother that you have become a monster-”

“Too late,” black eyes flashed again.

“No. I will see to that. It is not too late, Dean. You are in there somewhere. I dragged your soul out of hell once before, I can do it again.”

Dean laughed in genuine amusement. “You can’t fix me, Cas.”

“Watch me.”

  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Where do we start?”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was utterly infuriating. Castiel waffled between wanting to enfold him protectively in his wings, and punching him in his cocky face. In the two weeks since they'd been together, they had captured three of Metatron’s followers and taken out a vamp nest in Omaha.

Dean and Castiel sat on opposite beds in a Holiday Inn in Iowa. One of the five channels that actually came in was running a Dr. Sexy marathon to Dean’s apparent delight. Castiel shot Dean a fond look when he yelled at the television, very distressed that Dr. Sexy was cheating on Dr. Piccolo with her sister.

“That’s just not right,” Dean was muttering. “You just don’t do that to family.”

Castiel covered his laugh with a cough and Dean narrowed his eyes at him as Castiel pasted an innocent expression on his face. He had been straddling a fine line. He needed Dean to understand he wasn’t going anywhere. That no matter what, Castiel would be there to bring him back from the brink. But Castiel also knew that he had to be firm. He had to be in charge or Dean would treat this like a joke. He’d try and manipulate the situation until Castiel got pissed off enough to put him in his place and then they'd have to start from scratch

Dean looked over as Castiel’s phone buzzed.

_ From Sam: Hey Cas, how’s it going with Dean? _

He could still feel Dean’s eyes on him as he typed out a reply.

_ From You: As to be expected. I can feel that little bit of grace inside of him trying to reach me through the mark. _

_ From Sam: Maybe you should just tell him. _

“Hey,” Dean called over to Castiel, “Talking to your girlfriend? If you wanna take off and see Hannah…”

“I’m talking to your brother,” Castiel said, not bothering to look up. He heard Dean sigh.

“Great. A babysitter in the room and a babysitter in another state.”

_ From Cas: If I tell him that the more time we spend together, the stronger my grace becomes inside of him, he will do nothing but fight me. _

Castiel looked back at Dean and found him staring sulkily at a commercial for  _ Astroglide _ .

_ From Sam: Can’t you just, you know?” _

Castiel snorted.

_ From You: Sam, are you trying to ask why I just can’t have sexual intercourse with your brother? _

_ From Sam: Well, yeah. I mean, demon Dean obviously doesn't seem to care if he sleeps with guys. _

Sam was referencing the pictures from Crowley of the two of them on a large bed on either side of a rather bendy blonde woman. Castiel had to laugh, because what Sam didn’t seem to know was that regular Dean didn't mind men either, he just never said it out loud.

“If you two are gossiping about me, you’re going to be sorry.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Really? What exactly are you going to do?”

Dean’s eyes flashed black and he snarled.

“Yes, very impressive,” Castiel deadpanned and looked back down at his phone.

In hindsight he should have anticipated the tackle. Castiel fell back on the bed and Dean pinned him down, strong hands bracketing Cas’ wrists above his head. The phone in Castiel’s hand slipped out of his grasp and skidded across the floor.

Castiel held the ebony gaze of the man he loved as Dean covered his body with his own. Castiel even allowed it when Dean slanted his plush lips over his- _ until  _ Dean tried to lick the seam of Cas’ mouth. Castiel bit Dean’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood while simultaneously locking his legs around Dean’s lower half and flipping them.

Castiel glared down at the panting man underneath him. “Do not test me, Dean. You will not win,” he grit out harshly before getting up to grab his phone from under the table it had landed under. Castiel was calm on the outside but on the inside he was rattled. Having the warm, heavy weight of Dean on top of him had felt so good, so right. Staring into his black eyes, however, was so  _ so  _ wrong. He took another shaky breath as he watched Dean fume on the bed, then proceeded to message Sam back.

_ From You: It has to be more than just the joining of our bodies Sam. For my grace to fully connect with me, to be strong enough to fight the mark from within Dean, it also has be a joining of the heart. This Dean lusts for me. He does not love me. Our Dean, he loves me. _

Castiel again felt eyes on him as he waited for Sam’s reply.

_ From Sam: So more than a hookup then?  _

It was a weak joke, but Cas appreciated the attempt.

_ From You: Infinitely more. But do not worry. We’ll get there. I will save Dean.” _

Sam’s response was immediate.

_ From Sam: I know, Cas. _

* * *

 

 

Dean took a long swallow of his beer before angling his head at Cas across from him in the booth.

“What color are they?” he asked and the angel looked at him quizzically. Dean gestured to his shoulders and his head.

“Brown.”

“Brown?”

“Yes, brown. Why? Were you expecting a rainbow?”

“Haha, no. I just thought that with yours being so colorful-”

“Dean, mine are black and grey.”

“Yeah, at first glance. But then all these other colors show through when they move or the light hits and...why are you looking at me like that?”

Castiel shook his head, smiling softly. “No reason.”

“Fine, be cryptic,” Dean said before taking another mouthful of budweiser. Dean eyed Castiel speculatively. He was too calm. Cas knew something, the angel was far too confident. He seemed so sure that he’d be able to ‘save’ Dean. He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Dean didn’t want to be saved. He liked answering to no one. He liked the absence of constant guilt and the heavy weight of having to be strong for everyone all the fucking time. He was tired of being the grown-up, the one who held the splintered  _ Team Free Will  _ together. Dean imagined it was probably like the way Sam had felt without his soul. In retrospect, he could totally see the perks now.

The Dean he was now,  _ Demon Dean,  _ he chuckled to himself, he was bold. He took what he wanted, and if he had to screw someone over to get it, then so be it. Demon Dean could leer at Cas all he wanted. He could stare at those bright shiny wings and imagine fucking into him as he gripped them at the base, coaxing out mewls and whimpers, without feeling any shame at all. There was no worry of ruining a friendship, of offending anyone, of driving anyone away because he  _ just didn’t care _ . Dean did not want to go back to that repressed, angry, responsible guy whose idea of fun had been a bottle of  _ Jack Daniel’s _ and the latest issue of _ Busty Asian Beauties _ . 

Castiel was side-eying him, head cocked at an inquisitive angle, studying him as though he were a puzzle to be figured out. Dean felt his eyes flash black as he envisioned stripping away Cas’ cool facade and just taking him apart. He had to give the angel credit. Aside from a nearly inaudible hitch of breath, he gave no outward showing of discomfort. Dean knew Cas’ resolve. He would not give in and give Dean what he wanted.

“I’m going crazy, here, man. I need to do something. Has Sam found us another case?”

“Not as of yet.”

Dean growled in frustration and pushed up angrily from the table. Castiel’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I have nothing to kill, and you don't wanna fuck, so I thought I'd go shoot some pool. That okay with you, feathers?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed at his disrespectful tone, but he let him go. Dean made his way to a table and got in on the next game. Knocking striped balls into the corner pocket wasn't really conducive to burning off energy, but if the looks he was getting from his opponent-Matt or something- were anything to go by, they could burn some of that energy off together in the nearest bathroom stall. He pushed that thought out of his head almost immediately. He told himself it was because he didn’t want some random hookup hanging all over him, and not because he didn’t want to upset or disappoint Castiel.

Dean took the opportunity while waiting for his shot to study the angel, only to find his spot at their table empty. His eyes scanned the bar and lit on a beige trench coat seated on a high stool. Dean sucked in a breath when he saw Castiel smile at the bleached-blonde neanderthal seated next to him at the bar, legs angled towards each other. The blonde wore a blue tee-shirt, two sizes too small, obviously to emphasize his freakishly huge muscles. Dean growled as the man casually placed his hand on Cas’ thigh. Dean felt his hands clench at his sides, and the burn he had been feeling in his shoulder was stronger than it had ever been. Then Castiel,  _ the fucker,  _ looked right at him and cocked his brow.

“Hey man, it’s your shot.”

Dean continued to play chicken with Cas, but the angel broke contact first to laugh at something steroid boy said.

“Dude, it’s your-” Matt jumped as Dean slammed his cue on the table.

“You win,” he gritted out as he made his way to the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel almost felt bad for what the pretty man shamelessly flirting with him was about to witness. He could practically feel the waves of anger radiating off of Dean as he locked gazes with him from across the bar. His leathery brown wings were quivering, his tail whipping behind him so hard that had they been corporeal, then surely drinks on the nearby tables would have fallen victim to it’s destruction. Castiel could barely contain his glee. Dean was a spitting, snarling mess at that moment and Cas couldn’t have been happier, because as Dean tunnel-visioned his way to the bar, like a lion stalking a gazelle, there was one key thing missing from his irate form.

His horns.

The horns had fallen away, broken apart by the very base, human emotion of jealousy. Dean’s feelings for Castiel had taken precedence over any other feelings coursing through that body of his.

Castiel took a casual swig of the beer he couldn’t really taste properly as Dean crowded up into his space. The demon turned his back to the would-be suitor.

“I want to go. Now.” Dean’s voice was harsh and Castiel  _ tisked _ . 

“Dean, you’re being rude.”

“I don’t give a fuck-” Dean’s tirade was interrupted as a hand tapped his shoulder from behind.

“Excuse me, friend, but Cas here, and I were talking.”

Castiel watched as Dean’s face lit up with an amused smirk as he turned to face his ‘competition’.

“I’m not your friend. Now go find some other accountant to chat up,” Dean turned back to Cas. “Let’s go.”

Another tap to Dean’s shoulder and Castiel watched as Dean’s eyes flashed to black before he turned around again.

“Back. Off.” it was said low and cold, and Muscles jumped back, startled by Dean’s ebony gaze. Castiel chuckled lightly.

“He’s a magician. Neat trick, isn’t it?” Cas sighed, sliding off of the stool. “He is right, however, we really must go. It was lovely conversing with you…”

“David,” the man supplied, shooting a leery glance at Dean, who stood, jaw clenched, impatiently rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Yes, David. Forgive me, my memory is terrible. Dean?” Castiel ran his fingers up Dean’s arm, fitting his palm over the faded handprint and squeezing. At the firm touch, Dean’s eyes flashed back from black to their warm, moss green. David blinked in surprise and stumbled backwards in his haste to get away. Dean snickered and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“You’re a child,” Castiel chastised as they headed out the door.

“Pfft. You’re a...child,” Dean sputtered and Castiel took advantage of Dean’s discomposure to spirit them back to their hotel. Once there, he shoved Dean hard against the wall. Dean’s eyes widened and Castiel took his lips in a vicious kiss, giving a nip to Dean’s tongue, startling out a yelp.

“Do not try that ‘big man in charge’ stuff with me again or you will find yourself devil-trapped and I will cure you the hard way,” Castiel tilted his head in mock askance. “Capisce?” Castiel took a perverse pleasure in throwing Dean’s old words back in his face.

* * *

  
  


Dean lost his tail a few weeks later after a simple salt and burn. They had burnt the bones of one Linda Schubert in Laconia, New Hampshire. Motorcyclists had been crashing on the same stretch of road, and after speaking with the local authorities, they had learned that speed was not a factor. Yet there were five deaths in the past month. The local sheriff's office had stationed a man in the area a few nights a week after the first two deaths, and the last crash victim had been recorded by the officer. A look on slow motion hadn’t shown anything unusual, aside from the panicked driver. But who wouldn't be panicked when they were about to crash? What was bizarre was how the speed limit on Settlers Road was 50 miles an hour and the latest victim was clocked only going 45, yet still managed to spin out of control into the guardrail just like the four former victims. Just to cross all of the t’s, the motorcycles had been gone over and none were found faulty.

A quick search told them that this month was an anniversary of the death of Linda Shubert. Schubert, then engaged to one Wallace Hunt-had caught her fiance cheating on her with the waitress from their regular watering hole. In retaliation, Linda had stolen Wallace’s bike, only to take the corner too fast in her distress, and spun out and into the guardrail. A year later, on the anniversary of her death, Wally had become the first victim, totalling his new  _ Harley _ into the very same guardrail and dying. But by that point, the vengeful spirit was too far gone. Her lover’s death was not enough to quench the thirst. 

Dean and Castiel had taken care of that. Cas by holding her off with salt rounds as Dean flicked a match onto her gasoline coated bones. 

Castiel was contemplative as they returned to the motel that night. Dean, covered in graveyard dust had declined Castiel’s offer to clean him with a quick touch and opted to take a shower. Castiel suspected it was so he could pleasure himself in privacy. The one time Dean had attempted to embarrass Castiel by doing so in front of him had backfired. Castiel turned the tables on Dean by flipping open his cell phone and hitting record. At first, Dean had gone along with it, putting on a show of thrusting into his fist as his black eyes focused solely on Cas. Castiel knew that Dean had thought he had unlocked some sort of secret kink. Until Castiel had informed him that he was sending the video to Crowley, Needless to say, Dean did not come that night and Castiel had been awarded the silent treatment.

Castiel heard the door click open and Dean padded barefoot into the room, steam fragrant with the smell of cheap hotel soap and Dean’s own unique woodsmoke and leather scent billowing out behind him. Castiel was pleased to see that instead of trying to be obnoxiously seductive by parading in a towel, Dean had just pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a faded grey tee-shirt. That was progress. He was curious if Dean was even aware of his own change in behavior.

Castiel wondered if Dean would want to order out for dinner. He didn’t technically need to eat, but Castiel enjoyed it when he did. He liked that Dean still indulged in the human necessity of fueling his body. Maybe they could have a semi-normal evening and find something to watch together on the television. Part of him wanted to suggest whisking them away to the bunker, but he knew Dean wasn’t ready for that. Besides, they would want to stay in town a few more days just to make sure that there was no more trouble on the road. That spirit had been so far gone. Some, once they had enacted their revenge, would move on right away. But this woman, she had lingered on even after. How heartbroken must she have been to continue wreaking her havok on the innocent?

“What’s up with you? You’ve got your frowny face on,” Dean interrupted Castiel’s musings, studying him from the bed, a chinese take-out menu in his hand. 

“Why do people cheat?” Castiel could tell his question startled Dean by the way he drew himself up. His wings flapped once before settling, but his face betrayed none of that. He doubted Dean was even aware. Dean swiped a hand down his jaw and blew out a breath.

“I don’t know, man. Because they're cowards?”

“Have you ever cheated on someone?” 

Dean shook his head. “No. I mean, bouncing around from school to school, I visited quite a few janitors closets with quite a few girls,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Castiel chuckled lightly. “But I haven’t been in many long-term relationships. There was Cassie. We dated for about two months, but when I told her about what we do, she couldn’t handle it.” Dean’s voice was matter of fact but Castiel was sure an experience like that would have had an effect on how he viewed future relationships. “And Lisa...well, you know what happened there.”

Castiel lowered his eyes in shame.

“Hey, hey, no,” Dean said softly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, your role in it was not exactly one of your greatest hits, but it would have ended eventually anyway. I didn’t want Ben growing up around this shit, and Lisa tried. She tried harder than most, but she wasn’t cut out to deal with our kind of crazy.”

“Well, not everyone is strong enough to handle a life like this,” Castiel conceded. 

“The truth is, I was playing house. I was doing exactly what Sammy asked me to do. The apple pie life. Trying to convince myself to want what any sane person would want. But that life?” Dean’s gaze caught Castiel’s and held. “It’s not me. Not that I am saying it’s not great having a homebase. My own bed. But the freedom to take off whenever I feel the need to? You can’t do that shit when you have a family waiting at home around the dinner table.” Dean’s fingers tapped against the menu as he spoke, belying his discomfort at such a heavy subject.

“What do you think Wally Hunt’s excuse was?” Castiel pondered and Dean shrugged.

“Who knows. What’s that saying, cheating is just a symptom that something else in the relationship is wrong? Some guys cheat because they are never happy with what they’ve got. Some because they think it’s exciting. Mostly, I stand by the coward thing. They want out of the relationship but are too scared to man up and have the conversation.”

“It seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“Man, this is really bothering you,” Dean said, surprise coloring his tone and Castiel sighed.

“It’s just the needless death. Young lives cut short because one person couldn’t be honest about their feelings. Imagine if he had just said something to her.”

“You can’t think like that, Cas. You’re the one who told me that we can’t save everyone. And who’s to say she wouldn't have reacted the same way if he  _ had  _ told her. If we had been a couple way back when and you said, ‘oh, well, Dean, I’m really sorry, turns out, I’m in love with Meg’, what do you think I would have done?”

Castiel snorted at that. “You would have killed her immediately.”

“You see? Then you would have avenged her death by smiting me, and Sammy would have found a way to kill you and it all would have been this vicious circle,” Dean teased. “Enough of this sad crap. You got me behaving, walking the straight and narrow, I don’t want to waste our down time on depressing things. If I can’t go out and cause trouble, I at least want some MSG and beer,” he said, shaking the menu at him.

Castiel rolled his eyes affectionately, but internally he was thrilled. This was the most like  _ Dean _ , Dean had been in a long time. “Fine. Order your dinner. I shall procure the alcohol,” he stood up and stretched out his wings and he could see Dean’s eyes follow their movement. His expression whenever Castiel brought attention to his appendages was always a mix of wonder and lust, and whether or not Dean was ready to admit it, love.

Castiel arched a brow at Dean as he picked up his phone to order his meal. “For the record. I would never choose someone else over you.”

Dean’s lips curled up in a cocky grin as he rubbed at his shoulder. “I know,” he said and Castiel felt his heart trip as his hunter’s leathery tail faded into nothingness. 


	4. Chapter 4

The day Dean became human again, he didn’t even notice. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Castiel had started to cry, silently, he wouldn’t have know anything had happened at all. In his defense, it had been one hell of a day.

It was a miserably hot evening. Clouds blocked the stars making everything a heavy grey. It wasn’t quite raining, it was more like a mist. It was also humid as hell. That kind of uncomfortable where you couldn’t tell if it was rain or sweat on your skin. Probably both.

Castiel, of course, walked along unperturbed. It shouldn’t have bothered Dean either, but it did. He was irritated and ansty. Dean also thought the entire mission was a bad idea. Traipsing after hours through rows and rows of units at _Bob’s Discount Storage_ was definitely not high up Dean’s to do list. But Castiel was sure that there were renegade angels convening there and no way was Dean letting him check that out without backup. Dean may not give a fuck about much, but he did care about Cas. For whatever reason, that damn angel was one of the only two things that Dean did still care about, his brother being the other. It was the whole reason he’d left in the first place. So he could breathe. So he could fuck,and fight and live it up without having to face the puppy dog eyes of the man he had practically raised. So they wouldn’t be living in the same space and Dean wouldn’t be tempted to do or say something he couldn’t take back.

He’d left Castiel for essentially the same reasons. He did not want to hurt his best friend with cruel words and even crueler fists. Not that it had mattered anyway. Cas had to go and get himself powered up again and make Dean his pet project. Now they were in _Bellmawr New Jersey_ , the most recent stop on the “Save Dean” city tour, and every fiber of his body was telling him that this was a mistake.

Their footsteps echoed on the steaming tar and the street lamp’s light spilled across the huge facility, creating shadows against the faces of the roll-up sheet doors. Dean still couldn’t see even the shadow of his own appendages, but Castiel’s oil slick wings were like a beacon announcing their presence.

As they crept down another row of units, Dean reached out and pulled Cas aside behind a storage unit.

“For the record, man, I think this is a really bad idea.”

Castiel sighed at him, impatiently. “Yes, Dean. I am aware. You have made sure to tell me so. Eleven times now since I first informed you of tonight's agenda, in fact.”

Dean ignored the sarcasm. “Well, then, that should tell you something, don’t you think?”

Castiel just put a palm to Dean’s cheek and Dean found himself leaning into it unconsciously.

“I’m grateful for your concern, Dean. But I know what I am doing. I think you forget what I am sometimes,” Castiel rubbed his thumb against Dean’s stubble and his blue eyes were still bright, despite the darkness.

He was right, though. Dean did often forget that Cas wasn’t just this hot guy with bad taste in outerwear and no filter. Sometimes Dean had to remind himself that Castiel was, in fact a warrior of God, an angel who had commanded garrisons. An angel who had once gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. Without thinking about it, Dean reached out and cupped the back of Castiel’s neck. He tugged and Castiel willingly met him in the middle. Dean had a second to breathe in the heady scent of ozone and petrichor before Castiel sighed, lips parting for Dean’s eager exploration. They stood against the metal unit, tongues slowly undulating against each other. Cas’ hand stayed on Dean’s cheek as Dean’s crept up from the back of Castiel’s neck to tangle in the angel’s dark, tousled hair. Dean stepped in closer, free hand slipping into the open trench coat to clutch at Castiel’s belt loop. This was nothing like their former kisses. It wasn’t brought on by retaliation, or a show of power. This was just them taking a moment to say without words, how they felt. Castiel brought his other hand to fit over his long faded handprint scar. Instead of the burn Dean had come to be used too, now there was an intense heat overlaying it, almost soothing.

Dean was loathe to stop, but a heavy makeout session amongst an area supposedly housing rogue angels was probably not a good plan. Castiel apparently felt the same as they moved apart in sync.Castiel gave him a lopsided smile, pink lips extra plump from their kisses.

“We can finish this conversation later,” Castiel said, his whiskey tone even raspier than usual. “Come. Sariel said they would be somewhere towards the back. "

“Tell me something,” Dean said as he fell into step next to Castiel. “If Sariel already knows where these guys are, why isn’t she dealing with it?”

“Because I volunteered."

“You volunteered?” Dean’s voice rose up on the question and Castiel glanced at him with confusion on his face.

“I don’t see why you’re so incredulous. We’ve been doing this for the past three months. Getting Demon Dean some “action”, as you so eloquently put it,” Castiel said, complete with air quotes and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but that was one or two at a time.  Any more than that isn’t exactly the best odds.”

“Perhaps not, but you are assuming they won’t return to Heaven peacefully.”

“That’s because they _never_ go peacefully,” Dean scoffed.

As they rounded the corner and saw a line of four angels greeting them, blades drawn and faces expressionless, Dean had to bite back the _I told you so_. They stopped just ten feet from Castiel’s brethren. One by one their eyes flickered at Dean and their blank expressions at once, turned wrathful.

“You dare to seek us out with this foul demon by your side?” The lone female vessel directed her question, voice dripping ice, to Castiel. Her gaze however, remained on Dean.

“Despite his appearances, Dean is a good man. The righteous man. I will proudly walk with him anywhere.”

“Hmph,” another angel, this one wearing a vessel very similar to Alfie, snorted. “Oh we are quite aware, Castiel. We see your mark on him. We hear your thoughts, and your depraved desires.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted, and heard Castiel huff out a sigh beside him, “We get it, Cas has bad taste in men. Can we move on? How about we talk about why you’re still out here supporting metadouche's quest?"

Castiel, who had gripped Dean’s wrist painfully hard at the start of his outburst, relaxed his hold. Dean watched him level his intense stare at the remaining two angels, both wearing average looking businessmen.

“Heaven’s gates are open now. Order has been restored. I implore you to cease your senseless acts of aggression and return home.”

“Return home?” the female’s tone held disbelief. “To a home run by an angel like you? One who would slaughter our brothers senselessly?”

Dean wanted to reach out and offer comfort to Castiel, but he knew it wasn’t the time.

“Zerachiel, I cannot change what has been done. I can only say that I have learned from my mistakes. You must be aware that I am working with Hannah and Joshua to restore order,” he turned towards not-Alfie.”Gavreel, as the angel of peace, you must see that these pointless demonstrations are hurting innocent people and accomplishing nothing.”

“Come on, Cas. You know dicks with wings don’t care about us lowly humans,” Dean sneered, earning him a glare from the pinstriped suited angel on the end.

“And you do, demon? Metatron’s cause was just. Why should we care about those lesser beings? All they have done is create chaos upon this planet.”

“Afriel, yes, I will consent that the earth is a bit rampageous, but it is also full of hope and beauty. You cannot have the Yin without the Yang.” Dean felt his mouth quirk up at Castiel’s words. His angel could be quite poetic sometimes.

“You want us to return to heaven? Rejoin the fold?” asked the other suited up angel, “Fine Castiel. On one condition.”

“I’m listening, Raguel,” Castiel cocked his head, ready to hear the terms, though Dean had a feeling they wouldn’t be anything good. His hand itched to pull out the first blade, hidden inside the seam of his jacket. He wished, not for the first time, that he could pull off that slick blade up the sleeve trick that Castiel always used.

The other angels stood at attention waiting for Raguel to speak.

“You want to prove that order is being restored? That peace and balance is the goal? Prove it. End this demon, right here and right now. Do this, and we shall willingly take our place in Heaven.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel shook his head, a deep sigh falling from his lips.

“You already know my answer. You knew before I even asked your terms, which makes this meeting futile,” Castiel’s blade appeared in his hand and Dean took that as his cue to pull the first blade from his jacket.

“I cannot allow you to continue your acts of terrorism here on earth,“ Castiel said, his gravel-laced voice deep and sorrowful. “This is your last chance. Return to Heaven, while you still can.”

Castiel’s plea fell on deaf ears and they moved into fighting stance, back to back, on instinct. Dean couldn’t see what Castiel was doing but he could hear harsh breathing and the occasional clash of metal. At one point he could hear the sound of a window smashing.

The angel in the young vessel, Gavreel, reached towards Dean, hand outstretched. Dean recognized the classic smiting move and blocked the hand before it could reach his face and brandished the first blade. Gavreel lunged again and Dean quickly sidestepped, then swung out at Afriel who had come up behind him. Dean closed his eyes automatically when the bright light flashed. As a demon the sight would not have affected him, but habits were hard to break. When he opened his eyes he saw the impression of burnt feathers against the pale metal of a storage unit. Zerachiel began to circle Dean and he saw Castiel trying to hold off Raguel while Gavreel lunged at Cas from behind. Castiel ducked and Gavreel stumbled forward, but quickly regained his footing.

“What are we doing? Playing ring around the rosie?” Dean gave the ‘come at me’ gesture and Zerachiel gave a swipe with her blade. She sliced Dean’s forearm and he growled. He swung out with the blade and the angel stepped out of range. Zerachiel raised her blade again but Dean plowed forward, ramming his shoulder into her chest before she could even make a cut. Her head slammed into the unit behind her and Dean took the opportunity to thrust the first blade into her chest, the bright light nearly causing spots to dance in front of his eyes. Dean turned as he heard a loud crash. Raguel had tossed Castiel into the unit across from them and Cas crumpled to the ground.

“Cas!” Dean called out and his angel staggered to his feet, blade still drawn, blood flowing from a cut on his head. Dean had been so busy watching Castiel, he almost missed it when Gavreel circled behind him. He pivoted just in time and they both paused when another flash of light brightened the lot. Dean blinked, his breath coming out in harsh pants when his vision cleared. His knees nearly went weak with relief when he saw that Castiel was still standing. Gavreel took advantage of his momentary lapse to sweep Dean’s legs out from under him. Dean went down hard and rolled out of the way when Gavreel’s blade came down. Dean jumped back up and saw Castiel attempt to come at the other angel from behind. Gavreel sensed his presence and turned, blade slashing out and Castiel stumbled back.

Castiel skidded on broken glass and went down hard on his knees. Dean watched in what seemed like slow motion as Gavreel stood over him, arms poised to perform the killing blow. Dean didn’t even remember moving, one minute he’d been one one side and the next he felt the burning slice of metal in his chest. His vision went grey and he vaguely heard a scream as his eyes closed. From behind his lids he could still sense a glaring light. He felt a tingling warmth in his chest before he was pulled under.

* * *

 

When Dean came to, he was on his own bed in the bunker. He lurched up with a gasp of Castiel’s name. He didn’t need to look far as the angel sat on the edge of his bed, silent tears tracking down his face. His stormy blue eyes shined and his breath hitched.

“Heya, Cas. What’s with the waterworks?” Dean kept his tone gentle, more than a little freaked out at this turn of events. He had seen the angel express many emotions; anger, love, annoyance, sorrow, but he’d never seen him cry.

“You are insufferable assbutt, Dean Winchester,” Castiel whispered and Dean raised his brows in surprised.

“That’s a little harsh, dude. You say that to everyone who tries to save your life?” Dean teased but Castiel was not amused.

“What were you thinking, pushing me out of the way like that?” Cas was losing his sad and finding his mad rapidly and Dean was confused.

“Um, I don’t know. Something along the lines of ‘save Cas’?” Dean said testily.

“I could have handled it, Dean,” Castiel sniped and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I could see that what with you on your knees about to get smote. Besides, I have the mark Cas. Nothing that winged dick could have thrown at me could have killed me long term,”.

Cas leaned into his space and gripped his shoulders. Dean could see the dried tear tracks down his cheeks and felt a clench in his gut. “Are you asking me to believe that you only jumped in front of me because you thought you would live? That you wouldn’t have if you thought you could die?” Castiel asked harshly and Dean rolled his eyes again before mumbling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” Castiel’s voice was deceptively sweet and it raised Dean's hackles.

“No. Okay? I said no,” Dean said, irritated that they were even having this conversation. Castiel sighed.

“Dean, you can’t just-”

“Save it, Cas. you don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do. And there is absolutely no way in hell you can tell me you wouldn't have done the same exact thing.”

That took the wind out of Castiel’s sails and he bowed his head. He had nothing to say to that, and Dean lifted Cas’ chin with his finger.

“M’fine, Cas, see? Actually, I feel really great,” and he truly did. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time

Castiel’s lip pulled up in a half smile as he said, “Your wings are gone.”

“My wings?”

Castiel nodded. “You’re you again, Dean,” Castiel said and Dean could hear the joy in his voice.

“How?”

“You’ve been slowly shedding the demon for a while now. Tell me. Has your arm been hurting?”

Dean nodded and licked his dry lips. “Yeah, actually. Sometimes, my shoulder would burn. I thought it was just a demon thing, or the mark.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. It was me. Or, more accurately, it was my grace.”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me.”

Castiel linked their hands together and Dean felt a warmth curl in his gut at the contact. “When I pulled you from hell, that took a lot of energy. When I gripped you, I did not just leave behind a handprint. I left behind a bit of my grace. That buring you have been feeling, no doubt since you turned into a demon, has been my grace, trying to fight the mark. Look at your shoulder, Dean.”

Dean looked and sucked in a breathe. “It’s back,” Dean whispered, marveling at the handprint.

“Yes. I knew that the longer we were together, the stronger my grace would grow inside you, until eventually it would be able to fight back.”

Dean’s stomach twisted in disappointment. “So, um, all of that other stuff, the kissing...that was just you trying to cure me?” Dean hated the vulnerable note in his voice.

“What?” Castiel looked at him, quizzically, “no, of course not. Dean, I love you, you must know this by now.”

“But you just said-”

“I meant emotionally. Don’t you think if all I needed to do to cure you was have intercourse, we would have done so by now?”

Dean couldn’t have stopped the lascivious smile that stole across his face if he tried and Castiel chuckled softly in response.

“So you’re saying I’m not a demon anymore. Is that why I can’t see your wings now?”

Castiel nodded. “You could, if I chose to show them, because our bond is even deeper now. That bit of grace that was in you is strengthened. Can you pinpoint the time when you started to feel just a bit more like yourself?”

Dean thought back on the last few months.” I don't know. It’s hard, I mean, I always felt something for you. And for Sam. It's the main reason I left,” Dean looked around the dimly lit room, untouched since the day he’d woken up a demon and left his goodbye note.

“I got pretty jealous when that guy was touching you at the bar. That felt pretty human,” Dean said with a laugh and Castiel smiled widely at him.

“That was when it began. You lost your horns that night. You locked your gaze on me as you strode up to me, crowding in my space at the bar, eyes covetous and attitude disrespectful,” Castiel arched his brow and Dean felt that familiar tingle of lust that was always at a low simmer around Castiel, crank up to a rolling boil. “I wanted to punish and reward you at the same time,” Castiel said nonchalantly and Dean cursed.

“Holy Fuck, Cas.”

Castiel reached out to push a hand through Dean’s caramel toned hair, scratching at the scalp. “I was overjoyed to see this beloved face no longer framed by unwanted cartilage,” Castiel teased. “Then a few weeks later, you lost your tail.”

Dean went back in his mind but couldn’t narrow down any specific moment where he felt more himself. He supposed it had been gradual.

Castiel leaned back to strip off his trench coat and loosen his tie. Dean followed the movement with his eyes, greedily.

“It was after that salt and burn. We were having a conversation about why people cheat,” next Castiel slipped off his shoes and socks. Dean sat up straighter, noticing for the first time that he was clad in only a tee-shirt and boxers.

“You gonna catch up to me while you tell this little story?” Dean asked, gesturing to Castiel’s pants.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Castiel asked tenderly, and Dean knew that he could stop all of this right now and Castiel would not think less of him. But he didn’t want to stop it.

He tugged Cas in closer by his tie, and felt a flood of affection at his endearing head tilt. “Listen, Cas. All that stuff I said. The things I did-”

“You mean the masturbation?”

Dean felt his cheeks flush and he shrugged sheepishly as he answered. “Yes, the masterbation. God.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, “What I mean is-demon Dean-he just did and said what I was afraid to. What I wanted to say and do for a long time now. Do I really have to spell it out?”

Castiel lifted his chin and eyed him rather smugly. “You’re in love with me.”

Dean huffed out a laughed. “Yes. I am in love with you.”

Castiel’s smile was blinding,showing his gums and making his nose crinkle adorably.

“But you already knew that,” Dean pressed and Castiel only shrugged. Dean rolled his shoulders. “So my wings...?”

“The moment you pushed me out of harm's way,” Castiel said somberly. “That was...petrifying.”

“Why? Cas, it’s not like I could have died.”

For a moment Castiel just squinted at him. Dean felt like he was missing some piece of the puzzle.

“Dean, I cured you.”

“Yeah, I know. Not a demon, I’m grateful, honest.”

Castiel made a frustrated sound. “No. _No_ Dean.” Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm, turning it over. “I _cured_ you.”

Dean’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Holy shit!

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“You cured me.”

“That’s what I have been saying,” Castiel said, this time with a little amusement in his tone.

“So I actually died.” It wasn’t a question.

“For a moment, yes.”

“And that’s why you were…” Dean trailed off.

“Crying?” Castiel held his gaze and Dean could see horror at the memory shining in his blue depths. “I was overcome with relief that I am no longer on borrowed grace, because a wound like that would otherwise have been fatal,” he sighed deeply. “And I was overcome with grief at would could have been."

Dean closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Castiel’s.

“Look at you. My saving grace. I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said, breathing in wind and earth.

“I have a way you can make it up to me,” Cas murmured.

“Oh yeah,” Dean asked with a smile in his voice.

“Uh-huh,” Castiel brought his lips a hairsbreadth from Dean’s. His fingers tugged at the hem of the hunter’s shirt. “We can start by getting rid of this.” Before Dean could blink, his shirt was gone, now neatly folded on his bureau. Dean snickered quietly.

“Neat trick. You gonna use it on yourself anytime soon?” Before Dean could even finish the question he had a nearly naked angel in his lap.

Dean hissed at the feeling of skin on skin, and the warmth of Castiel’s body settled on top of his. He had fantasized for so long about this moment but nothing compared to the reality. Cas was warm and firm. His thick, toned thighs straddled Dean’s waist, and the light dusting of coarse hair rubbed sensually against his own. Castiel’s arms looped around Dean’s neck and his eyes ran up Cas’ chest, taking in his light belly freckles, the darker, edible one in lickable distance near his nipple. He could also feel Cas studying him as well and could only hope he didn’t disappoint.

Dean could feel himself swelling under the thin cotton material of his briefs and unconsciously arched up. Castiel gave a sigh of pleasure as their lengths brushed against each other. He began a sinuous rocking motion, almost a figure 8 and Dean tipped his head back in bliss. He gasped when felt Castiel’s tongue stroke against his pulse point, before placing, hot open mouthed kisses to Dean’s skin.

“Should I be jealous of where you learned all this?” Dean panted, forcing his eyes open to lock on the angel undulating on top of him.

“I have been around for thousands of years, Dean,” Castiel said, trailing his fingers down Dean’s chest, leaving a fire burning in their wake. He dipped his long fingers under the waistband of Dean’s boxers and raised his brow, a move that was quickly becoming one of Dean’s biggest turn ons.”I have seen many things, and have a very long memory. I have been eager-” Cas paused to dip in and kiss Dean softly, “to test those memories on you.”

“Well, I am all kinds of okay with that,” Dean said fervently before gripping Cas by the back of the head and dragging his mouth towards his.The kiss was slick, wet and filthy. Their tongues danced, and teeth nipped. Castiel shifted up on his knees and suddenly even the small bit of cloth between them was gone. Dean broke his mouth away with a pop because he couldn’t not look, and just _fuck._ Cas’ beautiful cock was curved up towards his stomach, the head flushed a delectable pink, the tip beaded with liquid. He was thick, like Dean, though slightly longer, and he had to dig his fingers into Castiel’s sharp hipbones to keep from wrapping his fingers around the hard member. This was Cas’ show and Dean was going to let him run it.

Castiel continued to gyrate, the drag of his cock against Dean’s was a delicious friction and Dean found himself making, soft, guttural noises. When Castiel’s oil slick wings suddenly appeared before him, Dean nearly lost his breath. They arched high, quivering. They appeared like liquid silk and every time the light caught the tips, black bled to blue and green and back again.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Dean panted out. Castiel’s mouth curved up in a sweet, half smile. Castiel pulled Dean’s hands from his hips and positioned them at the underside of his wings. Dean raised his brows in askance and Cas nodded. Dean groaned loud and long when his finger sank into the soft feathers. It was like weaving his hands through water. It must have felt good, too, judging by Castiel’s euphoric expression. His head was tipped back, stubbled cheeks flushed red, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“ _Unh, yes. Yes, Dean_ . You can- _ah_ -you can grip them tighter.”

Dean alternated between fisting and raking his hands through the feathers and inhaled deeply when Castiel’s ozone and petrichor scent enveloped him. Dean felt a walnut sized gland under his thumb and when he pressed down Castiel arched on a sharp cry.

“ _Yes! Again, again, Dean,”_ Castiel writhed, his strong thighs tightening around Dean’s waist, his cock slick against Dean’s, the slippery slide delicious, yet not nearly enough. Dean dragged his hands through the glossy pinions and realized his hands were glistening. Cas’ unique scent billowed out again.

“Use it,” Castiel moaned. “It’s my wing oil.”

Dean reached between them, and the touch of his hand slick with Cas’ oil had him fighting the urge to come. Castiel reached out one hand to grip Dean’s shoulder as he moved against him. His other hand he brought down to wrap around Dean’s and together they fucked in and out of their joined fists.

The room was nothing but a symphony of breathy sighs and husky moans. Dean’s fingers again dug into Cas’ hips and he knew that had he been human, there would be marks in the morning. As their pace quickened, Dean became aware of Castiel’s eyes. They were beginning to glow.

“I’m- _ah, ah_ \- I’m so close Dean. Close your eyes. Quickly- _I can’t, I-Dean_!”

Dean closed his eyes as he felt Castiel shatter above him. He felt the warm, wet heat of Cas’ come spurt out and slicken the glide of their hands. Dean was almost surprised when his own intense orgasm shot through him, it happened so fast. He was vaguely aware of series of loud popping sounds sounds but was too dazed to care to investigate. His head fell into the crook of Castiel’s neck and they slowly relaxed their strokes to soft, long pulls, each breathing erratically.

Eventually their hands stilled. Dean gently pressed kisses to Cas’ sweat dampened neck and the angel shivered. Now that they were cooling down, the air gave their wet skin goosebumps. Dean pulled back and looked at Cas with what he knew was a goofy grin. Castiel answered with one of his own, his hand going to brush at the stubble burn he’d left on Dean’s shoulder with his cheek.

“Leave it,” Dean said hoarsely. “I like the sting. Makes this real,” his tone was sheepish and Castiel looked at him with eyes filled with love. “The rest, though,” Dean said gesturing to the sticky mess between their stomachs and hands, “that you can feel free to mojo away.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh, but made the come and oil disappear, though the enticing scent of their activities still lingered. Dean watched as Cas shook out his feathers, stretching them out before tucking them back into the non corporeal realm. Dean pouted and Castiel smiled fondly.

“You can play with them later,” he promised as he slipped off of Dean’s lap.

“Hey, where are you going? I know you don’t need sleep, but I was kinda counting on some post-coital snuggling action.”

“I will be back, but I thought I should clean up the glass that is no doubt littering the bunker's floors right now, before your brother sees it or worse steps-”

“What the hell!” a shout came from the hall and Dean found himself snorting out a laugh.

“Too late.”

“Perhaps you should go explain what happened,” Castiel’s voice was raspy, his tone serious. “I’m sure your brother will be happy to see you back to normal.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t take that honor away from you. After all, it _was_ you who cured me.”

“Yes, Dean, but I am sure it would mean so much more coming from you-”

_Bang Bang Bang_

“Look, I am glad Dean is feeling better or whatever, but I am not cleaning up your kinky sex mess,” Sam yelled through the door. “I’m going to go get pizza, the lights better be fixed when I get back.”

Dean stared at Castiel, eyes wide before he broke down, laughing until he couldn’t breathe, and his stomach cramped. He watched Cas peek his head out the door, making sure that Sam was actually gone. As Cas slipped out of the room, still naked as could be, Dean fell back on the bed, and stretched. He rubbed at his arm, relishing the feeling of smooth skin, the raised pink flesh of the mark gone. Surrounded by the scent of his lover and best friend, he’d never felt more at peace. For the first time in his life, he actually had hope that the feeling would last.

 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is now being translated to Russian by the lovely Shiorino and can be found here:  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/5635444


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